


The Salt of Spite

by simones_rucksack



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: Asexuality, Bulges (Homestuck), Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Cum Eating, Cumplay, Excessive Semen, Gokkun, Internal Monologue, Masturbation, Nooks (Homestuck), Other, Self-facial, Sexual Frustration, Slime, Tentabulges (Homestuck), Wet & Messy, cum as lube, excessive precum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28177557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simones_rucksack/pseuds/simones_rucksack
Summary: Frustrated with the pressures and caveats of societal expectation, Marsti decides to get dirty.Heavy cum focus.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	The Salt of Spite

The loungeplank squeaked against the floor as Marsti slumped into it, saturated scrub pole still in hand and scourdray at arm's length. It had been a long night, a _long_ night. She sat for a moment, basking in the comfort of her respiteblock, before allowing the scrub pole to drop to the floor in a muted clang. She ran her gloved hand through her cropped, swept back hair, smearing the middling perspiration of her forehead.

Home.

She had spent the better part of her working week in a distinctly grungy part of town, sweeping and sponging her way through a series of disused alleyways between a cluster of especially rowdy hivestems; Lowblood crowd, as she'd guessed from the discarded brands lining the run-down backstreet floor.

Nobody would thank her for her efforts, of course, but as she told herself (And the occasional condescending Highblood) often, it wasn't for them, it was for her. Any benefit they gained from her work was merely a side effect, that is, if they _even fucking noticed._

"No." she said to herself aloud, stopping the train of thought dead in its tracks, clenching her eyes shut beneath the red goggles she hadn't yet gotten around to removing.

_Spilling frustrations over the inconsiderate nature of Trollkind is fine when some bulgebiter is in your face, Marsti, but you can't let this spite intrude on your free time. You're supposed to be relaxing right now._

She took a deep breath, and reclined further into the loungeplank, the rubber of her garments squeaking softly against the padding as she did.

_Easier said than done_ , she thought; her body had been so tense lately as to be noticeable in her gait. Too much work, maybe?

Worse than that, her feet were practically throbbing from the walk home. Granted, it had been a longer night on the streets than usual, but it wasn't often she got foot pains. She again chalked it down to overexertion from the past week. It certainly wasn't helping soothe her demeanor, she knew that much.

She wished she could get ahold of a scuttlebuggy, it was uncommon for a Rusty like herself to possess a vehicle (Outside of being contracted (Read: forced) by the empire for public transport work), but when you spend all night towing your gear across town to clean up after others, the disdain for the caste-based conventions of Alternia sort of hits a peak. And for what? The bemused stares of some-

_Gah, there you go again. Forget it, Marsti. Forget it._

She brushed the scourdray aside wearily with her right foot to allow herself some space, then exhaled in discomfort as she brought up a leg to remove her footwear. No point going over the same frustrations in her mind again and again, thoughts don't change reality after all...

The boot slid off easily, revealing her sock, slightly clamped from the pressures of being walked around in all night in not-unrestrictive sanitation apparel. She decided to slip out of that too, and then undressed the other foot, with any luck the aching would stop if they could breathe. She splayed her toes out on the cold concrete floor of her block, the relief was immediate.

Marsti rolled her head back onto the padded edge of the 'plank, loosening up slightly as she curled the toes of each foot in an alternating pattern. There was still a tightness in her soles, but she figured she could wait it out, or commit to the old remedy if it came to that; a sopor slime foot ablution.

_So_ , she thought.

_The sun won't be up for a little while, I still have some night ahead of me to work with._

She cocked her head to her left, noticing the small pile of laundry below her reflective plane that she hadn't gotten around to washing in her selfless haste to _improve the outside world_ , yeah, right. She wasn't cleaning tonight, no more, she wasn't even going to let the wet spot from the scrub pole she had carelessly dropped bother her, this was personal time, yes.

She turned her gaze to her right, her eyes rolling over the errant scourdray as she considered her options, before doubling back to rest upon one of the cart's resifluid receptacles. The pail-like object seemed almost foreboding in the indoor light.

She had to admit, the thought of doing... that, _had_ crossed her mind recently.

To refer to herself as sexually inactive was putting it lightly. She'd never been with another troll (By _choice_ , she frequently reminded herself) and would always put off her 'Debt' to the Imperial Drones until the very last minute, and it was always... quite the experience. It was preferable to being culled, and even felt good in a way, you can't change biology after all, but she didn't like herself in that state, when the act got the better of her she did things that made her feel like a deviant. Things that made her feel _dirty_.

Engaging in that kind of thing recreationally, of her own volition was a very rare thing, and a hard sell, but maybe that's why she'd been so tense lately... She knew it was natural, and she knew that you had to do it eventually or end up unwillingly soiling your recuperacoon, but...

Marsti frowned, her beauty mark disappearing slightly into the shadowy crease of her scowl. The trolls in those hivestems probably have no such inhibitions regarding sex, she'd mopped enough slurry off the streets in her time on this planet to fuel a mother grub for sweeps untold. They were probably going at it right now, just fucking eachother or themselves with reckless abandon. How is it so _easy_ for them to indulge? Flesh on flesh, revelling in the lust, the fluids, the taste...

It was only then that the source of the tenseness in her body was confirmed, low, pulsating waves had begun to emanate from a now distinct tightness within her crotch, faint at first, but increasingly pronounced. The bitter thoughts of resentment paired with the new physical pressures came to a head in Marsti's mind, and with a moment of slight hesitation, she sat up, reached for the scourdray, and positioned one of its empty receptacles on the floor in front of her as a makeshift pail.

_Fuck it._

_If I'm going to be angry tonight I'm at least going to use that energy to get rid of this feeling._

Leaning back and sweeping the black apron off of her lower half, Marsti's still-gloved hand fished for the zipper of her red pants, making contact with the lump that had begun to surface there.

_Hard already? Really? All talk at first and before you know it you're groping at your bulge like a horny schooltroll, way to go. You really are just like the others aren't you?_

A near-growl passed her teeth as she shook off the thoughts of self-loathing and pulled the zipper down and released the fastener. The glossy red surface of her emerging bulge arched against, and then pushed at the new opening, an involuntary action, and a pressing desire on the bulge's part to be free from its cloth prison. Marsti groaned as she shifted in her seat and pulled her pants down a couple inches to give it some space to fully uncoil.

The thing was, frankly, huge. Marsti never really had a frame of reference for this kind of thing (Outside of dirty schoolhive jokes regarding purplebloods), but whenever she touched herself she was always conscious of just how cumbersome her member was; it was thicker than a clenched fist at its base, and just as long as her forearm. The trade-off being that her nook seemed unreasonably tight, meaning the vast majority of her experimentation with mandatory pail-filling had been bulge-oriented for fear of pain. She really had no idea how the monster fit inside her when dormant.

Translucent maroon strands of viscous lubricant-slime dripped along the inner curve of her bulge from tip to base; a slippery coating applied from where the girthy tentacle had uncoiled from her nook, and would be secreted over time throughout the period of arousal. Marsti looked down at the unwieldy thing in anticipation and saw it quivering with each pulse of her blood pusher, the thick webbing of slime jiggling in unison. Well... No time like the present.

Glancing at her dominant hand, she decided she was going to keep the gloves on. She'd used them for this before, moreso out of a desire to keep her hands clean, but if she was really honest, she kind of liked the feeling of rubber down there, and the gloves stayed well lubricated too, though, with how slick her bulge was looking she wouldn't exactly need that bonus.

Slowly, she took the base of her hot member into her right hand, the cold glove sending a chill up her spine, and as she fully wrapped her fingers around the almost throbbing appendage, the contrast of temperature forced an involuntary contraction in her groin, and a small spurt of thick, milky-red genetic material leaked out of her tip, accompanied by a sharp breath of surprise.

_Fuck._

She _was_ backed up.

She took her hand to her still-leaking, probing tip and started to slowly slide the glove down the length of her bulge, causing the dribble of genetic material to mix with her now-abundant slime in a gratifying squelch as her hand reached the base. She pulled the hand away and watched the stringy residue lapse and drip as it detached itself from her glove the farther she moved it from her glistening prick.

_Shit, this is so dirty_ , she thought, biting her lip, inhibition starting to leave her mind at the sight of her hand dripping with her own fluids. As much as she'd like to contest, she couldn't deny it, she wanted more of that. Yes.

She returned her right hand to the base of her tentacle and gripped it tightly, two of her fingers brushing against her sensitive nook. Another contraction; another small spurt of genetic material. The troll gasped in pleasure and shuddered in her seat, quickly sliding her fist upwards, collecting the resulting slurry in her hand and opening it to stare at it once more, leaving her sticky red bulge squirming expectantly in her lap.

The web of hot slurry that drooped between her gloved fingers enthralled Marsti to no end, and she played with it intently, breathing deeply and curling her toes in an effort to stifle further premature emissions as she brought her left hand to the base of her bulge; she'd have to be careful if she didn't want the thing to shoot off immediately.

The combination slurry was whitish in color, but with a markedly red tint, and had a thick, gloopy consistency from where the genetic material had merged with her bulge's natural lubricant. A small amount of the stuff had begun to pool invitingly in the dip of her palm, and Marsti's head began to feel almost empty, her reluctance fading into paradox space, replaced only by a shameful lust.

She began working at her bulge with her left hand, jacking herself off with a slowly increasing pace as she ogled at the potent mess she cradled. At rest she could see where the dense globs of genetic material had comingled with the comparitively thinner, more translucent slime. She stirred the slurry idly with her thumb as she masturbated, lifting the digit out intermittently and watching the warm fluids drip lazily. It looked so _inviting_. It looked...

_Tasty._

A minute or two of relative quiet passed as Marsti hungrily considered the filthy act, the only sounds heard being the light jostling of clothing accompanied by the wet _schlick, schlick_ of a bulge undergoing a long overdue milking. She wanted it, she wanted it badly. She spread her legs open wider and stretched them out some so she could have full access to the bulge, unhampered by her thighs, ready to be fully enveloped by stronger, needier strokes.

The slurry had begun to quiver in Marsti's open palm as her body jostled from the heightened attention she was giving to her progressively stiffer tentacle, and some of the fluid had begun to drip down the sides of her hand with each ragged stroke, causing droplets of the precious slurry to wet the leg of her pants. The crotch of her pants, however, was already well-soiled with spatterings of pre-ejaculate slime, so she couldn't exactly find the time to complain.

The troll's eyes darted from the slurry she held down to the maroon beast between her legs, it seemed just that bit larger, more tense, harder to maneuver with each stroke. She was getting closer, she could feel it. The glove that aided the pumping was totally slick with slime now, and she felt it dripping through her fingers on the underside of her practically writhing member.

Her blood pusher hammered in her chest and the pace of her breath quickened as she felt the full load her bulge had in store for her begin to well in the depths of her groin. She didn't have long. She returned her eyes to the residual slurry in her right hand. This was going to happen.

She wet her lips, fully transfixed.

She'd told herself after her last pail filling that she wasn't going to do this anymore.

She moved the hand closer to her face as she pumped.

It was wrong. It was _filthy_.

Her mouth opened.

But she loved it.

The troll's saliva-coated tongue lolled out of her mouth, and finally, with an unrestrained eagerness, dragged up and across her palm, muffling a subdued and breathy moan.

The saltiness of her own still-warm slurry set off sparks in Marsti's mind, and she relished the taste as the stringy globs of slime-sodden genetic material adhered themselves to her tongue, the texture only making her pump into her hand faster. It was so fucking dirty, and she was getting off on it.

Her face felt impossibly hot as her tongue lifted off of the edge of the glove with a thick wad of slurry resting upon it, a couple strands of the stuff still connecting the salty gift to her hand. The full awareness of what she was doing ran through the troll's relatively toned body in the form of a shiver that caused her nether regions to tense, and she realized she had crossed the point of no return, her bulge hardening significantly in her hand as she pumped.

The realization of depravity turned her on more than anything, and she allowed her tongue to fully retreat into her mouth, savoring the flavor as the slurry came into contact with her palate, the thrill of the act only increasing the sordid craving to the point of necessity. She smooshed the viscous goo against the roof of her mouth before opening wide and letting the genetic material drip, the addition of saliva helping create a thick membrane of spit and slurry that webbed the inside of her mouth in a whitish, mucousy sheet, before lapsing thread-by-thread and dropping back onto her tongue in an icky, sticky mess.

She continued to needily pump her bulge as she rolled the genetic material around and over her tongue a few more times, absentmindedly watching the excess slurry that dripped down her glove, her goggled eyes glazed in lust, then, when she felt she was as close to the edge as she could feasibly get, arched her slime-covered tongue, forcing the gloopy seed down her expectant gullet in a wet, needy gulp.

_That did it._

Her pumping turned into thrusting as she slid the entire length of her utterly edged and engorged bulge in and out of her hand in a rough display of near-animalistic desire, her hips bucking to the point of lifting her lower end off of the 'plank, leveraged by her right elbow's position on the armrest.

_If the other trolls knew what she was doing right now..._

_Oh, fuck... Oh fuck._

The troll was quickly approaching climax and had begun to grunt in uncontrolled, husky breaths as her overstimulated bulge glided in and out of her glove with a piston-like uniformity. She brought her free hand up to her face once more and pressed the glove against her mouth for another taste of the intoxicating slime, smearing a sloppy film of the stuff over her sharp features as she slurped.

_You're nothing but a bucket._

_A filthy bucket that likes to be used._

Her behind was now fully off of the 'plank as she bucked, her back arched against its padding in such a manner as to keep herself from toppling.

This was it, she could feel it coming. Her free hand quickly returned to, then clenched the armrest. Her bulge tensed. An electric sensation ran up its underside.

_Shit. It's-_

_I'm gonna'-_

With a spur-of-the-moment decision, Marsti angled her bulge towards herself and grit her teeth, before a low, long moan escaped her throat, and with a reflexive anticipatory shudder, thrust hard into her hand one final time, firing a particularly thick rope of genetic material that arced over her body, painting her goggles, face, and the top of her apron in a fat, gooey streak.

Marsti dropped back down into the 'plank as the pleasure of release overtook her, but jolted upright to a sitting position as the second pulse of orgasm ran through her body, leaning forward with a gasp and gripping the side of the pail with her free hand in order to angle the encroaching slurry's trajectory down into the awaiting container, not wanting to spend all of the precious stuff on dirtying herself.

Most of the fluid that shot forth landed in the pail with a satisfying splatter, audible due to its density, and with enough force that the bucket moved an inch, but a small amount of it also graced Marsti's body from where she had hastily repositioned herself, the stray mess of genetic material adorning her abdomen and pantleg. The amount of ejaculate contained in the two ropes alone surprised even Marsti; her bulge produced enough slurry with each contraction to fill a shot glass thrice over.

Now well-situated to begin filling the pail with her hot seed, Marsti returned to aiding her tentacle's subsequent pulses with forceful, timed thrusts. Shot after shot of the milky-red goop entered the receptacle, while the troll grunted and groaned in pleasure with an increasing breathlessness. The slurry looked thick enough to render a straw useless as it welled in the bottom of the pail, and it was quickly increasing in volume as the troll continued to unload her long-pent-up mess.

The pulses began to wane in strength slightly as the eighth rope of genetic material splashed down into the generous slop of hot ejaculate, and Marsti used the intermediary moment of recuperation to slide off of the 'plank and down onto her knees, hunching over the pail with her free hand planted firmly behind it, allowing her tentacle to shoot directly down into the container, which it did promptly.

The Rustblood felt positively dizzy as she approached the end of her climax, lazily committing to a few last halfhearted thrusts that sent a couple lesser ropes of genetic material down into the now-half-full pail, complimented by a number of slime strands that dangled heavily from the glove that sheathed her mostly placated bulge, but a final contraction that brought forth only a dribble of genetic material truly signposted the end of her member's expulsions, causing Marsti to exhale loudly.

The lengthy orgasm _had_ been exhilarating, albeit energy draining, and Marsti _did_ feel lighter as her body recovered from the exertion, the tension having dissipated with each spurt of steaming slurry, but although her reserves were spent, she didn't yet feel totally _satisfied_. Sweat gleamed on her forehead as she crooked her neck to look down into the pail, coming face to face with a messy bucketful of her own hot seed.

Residual genetic material dripped down into the receptacle from Marsti's still distended bulge, prompting her to take the base of her tentacle into her hand and pull on it downwards in a slick but staggered motion, practically wringing the slurry out of the sensitive organ and into the container with the rest of her mess. She also did her best to flick the remaining sexual fluids off of her hand, thick globs of the congealed slime gripping the glove as she shook.

Now content that the pail was holding every last drop she could muster, Marsti leaned back and sat on her legs, her mouth becoming slightly slack as she evaluated the mass of slurry, allowing herself a taste of the gooey strand that rested on her lips; _salty ecstasy_. She scooped a tongueful of it into her mouth and swallowed. The same dirty thrill ran through her, even post-climax, but it didn't even come close to sating the shameful desire.

She knew what came next, and the prospect was the most exciting yet.

Rising to her feet, hindered slightly on her way up by the manner in which her pants had sagged past her hips, Marsti picked up the considerably weighty pail and ambled over to the reflective plane, still somewhat lightheaded from the release. The gooey emulsion of sexual fluid sloshed back and forth as she walked, and had showed no signs of cooling as she set it down in front of the plane's glassy facade.

Returning to her knees, Marsti gazed at her reflection, her bulge tensing impotently upon seeing the mess she had made of herself. Her hair was particularly ruffled from the action, but that was easily a secondary observation when contrasted to the number she'd made of herself in the ejecta department. The initial streaks of genetic material that lined her body had begun to liquify in places, their viscosity dissipating somewhat in the open air, causing a number of sticky runoffs, and the film of slurry that coated her mouth had since collected around her chin in a number of dangling strands, giving the troll the impression of a freshly-filled communal pail.

She prized the thought.

But, coming back to her senses, she had her own pail to contend with.

Marsti picked up the bucket once more and lifted it to her chest, the tentacle between her legs curling in on itself stickily, the only-recently-appeased organ exuding another small bout of lubricant-slime from the anticipation, squirming instinctually as she raised the bucket higher, the mouth-watering treat nearing the troll's face with every moment, the lingering heat of it becoming ever more apparent, the unbridled desire that pushed her to this point nigh inescapable.

Marsti Houtek was going to suck down a gelatinous pailful of her own hot spunk.

Her lips met the container's brim in a manner akin to an undignified kiss as she tilted the pail upward, the gloopy mass beginning to slide noiselessly toward her mouth, and for a moment the world seemed infinitely still, the nearest of the slurry escaping her peripheral vision the closer it crept, granting Marsti one final interstice to register what it was she was doing, and the sheer filth it represented.

And then she tasted it.

The slurry swamped her lips, and its sharp aroma filled her nostrils, the sudden sensory barrage compelling Marsti to fully commit, angling the pail further, and further, causing the ejaculate to quickly pool against her pursed mouth, forcing herself to open wide or face spillage, which she then did; the salty goo flooding her mouth in an instant, necessitating a sudden, guttural swallow as the slurry met the back of her throat, the totality of which inspiring a prehensile jolt of her bulge, before another wave of the gloopy seed filled her mouth.

The intensity of the flavor sent chills through her body, but the rate at which the slurry was flowing meant she hadn't a chance to savor it, nor could she fully appreciate it's texture as she had before, but these wants had definitely been replaced by the simple need to consume the stuff, and as much of it as she feasibly could while she still felt the draw. She swallowed again, the resultant movement causing some of the slurry to spill down her chin, decorating the collar of her shirt with a thick glob of genetic material.

Tears began to fill Marsti's eyes as she chugged mouthful after mouthful of the gooey slop, not even allowing herself a moment's breath as her bulge continued to twitch with each swallow; thoroughly spent but well in the throes of a prolonged, slurry-fuelled ecstasy, it leaked with a small amount of genetic material in a slow but continuous ooze, dripping down onto the floor in sticky silence.

Her enraptured gulping was interrupted only by the wet sputter of her throat giving out on her, a demand from her body that she stop for oxygen, a demand that inadvertently caused a brief coughing fit and fumbling of the pail against her mouth that slopped even more of the slurry down onto the troll's chest, a notable amount of it sliding down the neck of her top and warming the skin of her rumble spheres. She returned the pail to her legs and took a couple deep breaths as she began to compose herself.

The moment of recovery allowed her another gaze into the reflective plane. She saw herself, a dishevelled Rusty clutching a bucket of her own ejaculate, her apron totally slick with the stuff, her slimy tentacle slithering in place, her mouth slightly agape and dripping.

She was such a fucking mess.

Again, the sight caused her bulge to tense, but a pearl of genetic material on its tip indicated it had a little left in the tank, and it wanted out.

_Time to finish this..._

Marsti returned to draining the rest of the bucket, forcing the last few mouthfuls of warm seed down her gullet in progressively noisier swallows, and as the pail began to feel lighter, she removed one of her hands and grasped at her bulge, tipping the pail up as she did as to collect the last stringy clots of slurry in her mouth before setting the pail aside and staring into her reflection.

Her bulge was incredibly sensitive, partly due to the pressure in her gut from how bloated she felt, and it didn't take her long to reach her peak, watching the way she pumped her member in the reflection of the plane, the way the strands of slurry jiggled on her chin, the state of her clothes, the taste of that last clammy mouthful...

_Fuck..._

_It's..._

Marsti jerked forward with a tired gasp and held the side of the plane with her free hand, staring into her soiled reflection as she let loose a comparitively tiny load onto the pile of laundry that rest below her, the final release of orgasm totally draining her energy, the moan she uttered trailing off into a sigh of exhaustion.

She leaned down slowly and got onto her side to lay on the floor a moment, her legs practically tangled up in the fabric of her pants, with her bulge finally beginning to soften and retreat up into her nook.

She felt very dirty, and very tired, but she also felt fuzzy. She felt _good_.

But tomorrow was going to be one _hell_ of a clean-up.


End file.
